Out cold
by illuminazione
Summary: Cato was dead from the day he was born. He just spent his whole life in denial.And now in the Games he found that all that he's been working for came crashing down on him - Character study like, covering Cato's life and exploring the workings of his mind.
1. Denial

I love Hunger Games. I was pretty late to read it, but I did and it's awesome - as you all surely know. Thus I needed to write something about it and this is the result. It is actually **Movieverse**, because it is inspired by Cato's dying 'speech' at the end of the movie (which is also incredibly awesome!). This will possibly be one of the longest stories I'll ever post on fanfiction considering I mostly just post one-shots.

Another part of the 120 prompts challenge.

84. Out cold

Enjoy. Yours, satori

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Chapter 1: Denial

You always believed that you were meant to be great and famous - or infamous rather. You had always been sure that you were destined to be better, stronger and harder, that you would triumph over everyone else looking down upon them, their lives at your mercy. There was simply no other way, because this was your path and prestige and honor waited at the end and you were nothing if not determined to reach the finish line. It was as clear as the early morning sky. You would not _try_ to win, you would **win**, because "maybe" and "possibly" weren't part of your vocabulary. It was either do or don't and you weren't one to accept "no" for an answer. In fact you didn't accept anything you disagreed with, but only because you had every right to.

The problem with your argumentation lies deep, rooted in the very pillars of your being, written into the very fabric of your mind, so deep you were never able to clearly notice it, but brought to daylight the problem is blindingly obvious. Everything you thought you know about yourself and the workings of the world was a lie. A lie told so often it has easily become the truth. No one was trying to hurt you by lying so bluntly. They weren't even aware they were anything but honest after all. They believed it, too, even though they should have been able to know better.

Since the day you were born you were a tribute. Everyone around you only contributed to your fate. You were always meant to harshly volunteer for the 74th Hunger Games. You were always meant to be the vicious deadly boy who the audience feared and adored. You were always meant to do what they expected of you. It was perfectly alright. You had been aware of all this and accepted it without question, but there was one thing you didn't realize or refused to realize. You were always meant to die. You were just in denial.

You became the violent boy with the malicious grin, just like they had desired. Fighting was your second nature and you lived for the thrill of slashing your sword or the sound your spear made when thrown or the feeling of your knuckles as they connected with soft flesh. They were so proud of you, so proud to see you blossom under the strict hand of your trainer. 'You are better than them surely', they told you time after time, 'they stand no chance against you!' and you nodded, because what they said was true, wasn't it?

The forbidden training kept you on your track. You weren't once tempted to wish for something different, weren't once inclined to ask yourself "what if?" or imagine a whole other existence. You couldn't have stopped if you wanted to. Everything you needed to know you learned in training and not in the worthless school you were forced to visit. However there was one concept they purposefully decided not to teach you: Emotions.

It seemed like everyone you knew forgot they even existed when they were near you. Your parents never showed you what it means to love or care for anyone. You knew how to kill a person in countless ways and yet you had never experienced affection. Anger came over you like thunderstorms on hot and humid summer afternoons, cleansing away confusion and tension. You were used to feeling enraged, irritated or frustrated with yourself or others. Everything you couldn't completely grasp you turned into wrath. The tiny stab in your gut when you watched a mother warmly hug her son, the queasy sensation in your stomach when this pretty girl at school smiled at you, the undefined shivers when you were alone in the house and strange noises appeared out of nowhere. It took a while for you to name those emotions and an even longer time to distinguish them. Your effort was useless, though, feelings wouldn't help you accomplish your goal and so you worked hard at suppressing them.

It was surprisingly easy and nobody cared about your complete lack of empathy as long as you acted normally. This should have been another warning sign. A red light going off accompanied by a shrill siren alerting your family (or someone, just someone) that there was something wrong with you, that all this couldn't end well. Instead there was a tensed, but steady silence filled with your even breathing.

When finally the Games came you were as ready as one could be. You were glad and confident, amazingly trained, determined and above all willing. At reaping day you felt like you could overcome whatever difficulties were thrown in your way, you felt invincible like nothing could ever break you. How could you know that you had never been more wrong? How could you know that these Games, that should be your victory tour, would not only throw your carefully constructed reality into chaos, but also force you to acknowledge the truth that everybody else blissfully ignored? The only thing you were working for was your own gruesome death.

And this was it. It was the beginning of your end.

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Next part is coming soon. Reviews are love!


	2. Distractions

The next part. We enter the movie plot. It gets interesting. I promise. ;)

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Chapter 2: Distractions

Your walk towards execution began harmlessly enough. Reaping Day and the following train ride were almost relaxed and completely as expected. The televised recaps of the other Districts showed you nothing but who exactly it was that would die at your hands. You wanted to laugh. Seriously? This would be your competition? A bunch of scared kids, some were still children and one actually had a limp. You snorted. It would be too simple to get them out of the way, no challenge at all. Your district partner, a small but fierce girl named Clove, laughed openly at the blonde beauty queen from District 1: "This isn't a catwalk, sweetie, if looking great is all you can manage then goodbye and see you in hell!" The female mentor added a gruff chuckle showing her sharpened teeth and you decided that you liked the girl and that she was worth your attention. She was just like you. (Just another dead soul waiting for her demise.)

The first surprise was the opening ceremony. Again you asked yourself if everybody wanted to make it easy for your District this year, because the other costumes ranged from boring to truly ridiculous. Clove was discreetly pointing at people and whispering insults that you enforced with your perfect malicious grin. Some of the tributes were glancing your way nervously as if they were convinced you and Clove were planning their death.

Thanks to your stylists you looked even more intimidating than you did before. Dashing and deadly, the Capitol would love you. And they did. At least at first, but apparently District 12's tributes were burning and that was distracting. Both you and Clove watched with disdain as your faces disappeared from the screens and were replaced by the shimmering visages of 12. A look of anger crossed your features simultaneously, but you recovered and waved back to the raving crowd.

"They were on fire", screeched Clove as you finally entered your floor, "on freaking fire!" "They stole our fucking attention!", you chimed in, because you were furious. How dare they? You wanted to smash something, preferably one of 12's heads. If they stole your sponsors… "Relax you two", Brutus, the other mentor, said, "this was nothing. They will fail the training and the interviews. You will come out on top!" And the moment passed.

Training helped to get both of you in excellent moods again. You enjoyed being the best at the weapons stations you visited and watched gleefully as no one moved near the knife-throwing again after Clove demonstrated what her secret talent was. You continued your routine of scaring the other kids, taking turns in glaring at them. The other Careers, which unfortunately would only be the girl and the boy from District 1, joined you in your little game and soon enough you were nearly spending as much time intimidating as you did actually training. Not that it mattered. There was nothing useful that you could increase your skill in.

Later in the evening you spent time with Clove laughing at the looks on the other Tributes' faces. The decision who wouldn't survive the blood-bath was already made. The pathetic 4 for example, who should have been your allies, but were nothing more than corpses and 6, who really just ran around like little chickens and gravely failed at everything. You wanted to talk the giant from 11 into your alliance, but he hadn't even responded turning away in disgust. 12 were mediocre, better than most but nothing to worry about. You just needed to make sure to kill them as soon as possible.

It was all working out perfectly.

You looked forward to the private sessions. The arrogant part of yourself longed for completely showing off your skills while a more self conscious side, which you consequently denied, desperately needed the reassurance that you really were one of the best. As you waited you calmly chatted with the other Careers, because none of you were nervous and all of you exactly knew what to do. Before she went in District 1's girl, who you vaguely remembered introducing herself as Glimmer, actually winked at you. That little detail managed to irritate you a little more than it should, because she couldn't want to flirt with you, could she? Apparently she could, because Clove was playfully hitting your arm and commented: "She's into you. We can use that." Absently you nodded. Right. Glimmer relying on you probably meant that she wouldn't kill you in your sleep. Although it could of course be a total lie designed to make you trust her. Then again neither you nor Clove deemed her intelligent enough.

Your name was called and you sauntered off with a friendly wave to Clove, which wasn't unusual. She was the best ally you could have hoped for, strong, tough, a very capable killer and you were sure that she would murder the others before she'd murder you.

Spear throwing, hand to hand combat, wrestling, sword-fighting, that was what you excelled at. The Gamemakers seemed impressed and highly pleased. (You were just like they wanted a contestant to be, like they had designed you themselves and maybe they indirectly had.) When the training scores were submitted you were going over the strategy with your mentors. Together with Clove for now. The moderators cheerily announced the scores. 9 for both of 1 were expected, but you were still spiteful when you and Clove both got a ten. You had already turned away from the television by the time it was 12's turn. There was nothing interesting about it anymore after all. Enobaria stated that the 12 year old from 11 needed to have some secret since she got a 7 in spite of her stature. You took notice of that and filed her in the 'keep an eye out'- category. When they announced 12's boy's number you were engaged in a discussion with Brutus on when to kill off allies. The boy got an 8. That was bad enough already, but the girl managed to pull an 11.

All four of you stared at the screen in disbelief. Your escort finally broke the silence saying something along the lines of "Well, she always stroke me as a fighter, the way she volunteered for her sister and such…" You exploded. Right then. Right there. "Shut the fuck up", you screamed and you didn't care that the quirky woman would be terribly insulted by your blatant lack of politeness, "we were meant to come out top. What could she have done superior to us? Nothing, that's what!" They all stared in shock at your outburst as if this wasn't a natural reaction. The first that moved was Clove and she threw the knives from the dinner table with deadly precision directly into the wall which was still transmitting the moderators and disappeared into her room. You did the same and decided to test of if the Capitol would replace everything in your room if you broke it.

From time to time a wide-eyed twitching Avox tried to clean up the mess, but you kept them away by throwing objects at them. You thought you might have even hit one by the sickening sound of it.

You didn't understand why you were so angry. That she got an 11 didn't mean that she would survive long enough to become dangerous, but she proved that she could be. She went from annoying to down right frustrating and you couldn't wait to get your hands on her, but deep inside a little quiet voice spoke up audible for the first time: "What if you don't make it back?" And the thought filled you with sprouting despair.

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Will have at least one more chapter.


	3. Destruction

Okay, so the plot picks up as we enter the Games. It will have another chapter, because the story didn't really fit into one. Hope you like it! Enjoy!

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Chapter 3: Destruction

In some ways killing was not at all what you imagined it to be when you lay awake at night contemplating your future and in more ways it was exactly like that. It made you feel dizzy like a special kind of drug. The world became a colorless blur only interrupted by the bright red splashes of blood. The blood was the only thing you could focus on in these first few moments of the Games. You had a sword before most of the others were even near the Cornucopia and without a pause you slipped into an adrenaline induced trance. You were functioning without thinking, slashing about almost blindly with the sureness of a sleep-walker. Before you knew it you were sprinkled with other teenager's warm blood, but you didn't care, because the rush you got from ending a person's life was enough to short-circuit any normal or vaguely human reaction. Your body accepted that this was what it had been trained for all along and your mind took a step back and shut its eyes so it didn't need to evaluate the various intense emotions and impressions.

Blood was everywhere. On your hands, trickling down your sword, in front of your eyes clouding your vision, pumping almost painfully through your veins and rushing loudly in your ears suppressing all other sounds. Your whole reality was shining in a surreal hue of crimson. (It's your favorite color, always had been, always would be.)

Suddenly after what could've been seconds or eons it was over. Something inside of you - some predator instinct - realized that the body you were currently hacking into was long dead and its cannon had already rung. The only living people in your vicinity were your allies, but they were nearly the same shade as the other world you just emerged from. The cannons were still booming and you needed some time to adjust yourself to a slightly less brutal and hectic environment.

You panted heavily, not from exhaustion - for you felt as strong and well-rested as in the morning - but from the sensations passing through you. You blinked rapidly in a futile attempt to clear away the red and black dots in your eyes. Clove's knife dug in a backpack directly at your feet calling for your attention. She pointedly threw you a disgruntled look that clearly said: "Now what? Act you idiot!" And reacting to her you did. "Let's collect the supplies and move out so they can get the corpses", you shouted with an air of authority, because you were their leader, had automatically been chosen. They naturally obeyed your orders. At least as long as your alliance stood.

Fortunately your alliance seemed to function just wonderfully. Everyone of you was perfectly content with the way you worked together. Hunting for the other children and keeping track of your supplies. You found it particularly nice that you managed to organize little expendable helpers since you were lacking two Careers. The boy from 3 for example, who had so pathetically begged for his life stressing his technological expertise and usefulness. Luckily for him you actually deemed him a valuable asset. He installed a protection-mechanism around you supply-pyramid, so no one had to stay there to watch over it. The boy was rewarded with a slightly longer life span.

What Clove was bitching about was Lover Boy's involvement. You generally agreed with her. You hated him or at least strongly disliked his person. (For hating would imply a sort of passion you can't feel.) His sick sweetness and his faultless acting as one part of the stupid, ridiculous star-crossed lovers District 12 had presented themselves as.

Maybe even worse than the theatre they did for the audience was his genuine love and adoration for the girl. "Seriously", Glimmer drawled while playing with the hem of your shirt, "whispering her name in his sleep. Who does that?" Apparently Lover Boy did and it was making you nauseous, because it was so twisted, impossible and down-right idiotic. This was why emotions were bad for you, they only serve to distract you. It seemed like he would actually sacrifice himself for her and wasn't that just hilarious?

Of course you didn't need to care about how they acted, but the audience most definitely did. These stupid giddy Capitol people craved something like this. There they were again stealing your sponsors. Granted you didn't really need anything right now, you were comfortably operating from your well stashed base at the lake, but still…

It was a matter of principle. The Games weren't meant to be this way. You were supposed to be the center of attention. The only reason you kept him around were the higher chances of getting near 12's girl and ripping her freaking heart out. There was something horribly and irrationally unnerving about their 'love that defies death'. (You knew nothing about love, but all about death.)

Sometime during the next few days the odds ceased to be in your favor.

First Glimmer died in that surprising tracker-jacker attack 12 launched on you after you had her trapped on a tree (and wasn't that just perfect? You nearly had her!). Losing Glimmer shouldn't have mattered how much it did. Even if you'd never admit it you had involuntarily grown used to her girlish flirting gifting you with some unknown but strangely welcome semblance of normalcy. There was nothing normal about Clove who after Marvel's death was your only partner, but you were actually glad to be alone with her. Maybe that was better anyway, safer, more familiar, healthier, more _fun. _

Next Lover Boy had predictably turned on you to spare his sweetheart, not that you had expected anything else. You got to him though, punishing him lethally before the tracker-jacker venom made you lose consciousness. It was a wonderfully satisfying moment. You made him bleed for all the unfairness you encountered in this time that should have been so glorious. (Bleed for everything that was still to come.) You relished in his muffled pained cries. He should go to hell and burn.

The most fatal blow you received however was the deceitful destruction of your much needed supplies. The little techie paid for it with his life. Throwing a rage fit and brutally breaking the boy's neck seemed to you like the most natural reaction in the world. Your fucking food! You had been absolutely convinced it was safe. It was 3's fault and 12's for sure. No one else could cause so much trouble.

Your wrath was powered by a deep-seated fear (what if you didn't find something to eat? what if you didn't win?) you still wouldn't acknowledge, not even now. There was no time for this, not when the whole of Panem was watching you lusting for the first sign of weakness. You refused to give them the satisfaction, besides there was no need to worry, you kept telling yourself. You were made for winning. You were a born victor. You'll find a way.

The food was gone. Marvel, Clove and you voted for taking revenge before you worry about your survival. It was what the audience would expect from Careers and now without the supplies it would be all about pleasing the audience. It made you sick.

Marvel died, but at least managed to take out what was probably 12's ally, the little girl. Six were left: Clove and you, the giant from 11, the unremarkable girl from 5 and sadly both from 12. That Lover Boy somehow was still alive was enough to get you riled up again. "You know where you cut him, don't you?", Clove asked in an attempt to reassure you for which you were thankful and angry at the same time (you were strong, weren't you? You didn't need to be reassured). "Yes", you grumbled in response, not entirely convinced. "There you have it. He's probably bleeding to death this minute." You nodded even though you weren't completely content, but it was evident that you would only be satisfied when both from 12 were dead (or when you were).

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I'm slowly running out of words with "D" for the titles of my chapters ;)


	4. Death

I am so sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. School has been rather stressful for me. Anyway it's longer, too and dramatic as it contains two very significant scenes: Clove's death and Cato's own death.

Enough talking. On with the story. I hope you like it.

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Chapter 4: Death

The unexpected rule change called for a big celebration. You both were doing just fine surprisingly. None of you had starved or died of thirst. "It's for them, you know", whispered Clove sitting on a large stone and sharpening her knives, "not for us." You looked into the distance trying to make out something - anything to distract you - in the darkness. "Yes, I know", a pause too long and too quiet, "but we're better", you continued with newfound confidence, "We'll make this rule ours!" Ours. It was wonderful. For quite a while you had pondered how you could get rid of Clove without any bad feelings (guilt, sadness, grief, and all the other unidentified emotions you'd rather ignore) and you were delighted, because now you didn't have to.

You were a team now. Truly and surely. For the first time in your life you cared for something else than the always looming goal of the Games. Her survival. From this point on it would not only be you. It would be "we". Together. The thought scared and excited you. It was scary, because this feeling of belonging was new and strange and complicated. Scary, because you needed to resign a little of your carefully kept control. It was exciting, because you finally had someone you could trust unconditionally, someone who understood you. Exciting, because you would not lose your partner (you needed her, more than you liked to admit) and you would be the first victors ever to come home as a pair.

There was no doubt that you would be the winners. Not anymore. No matter what 12 did they couldn't overpower you. Not when you could fully rely on each other. You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. There was no need for fear or doubt after this announcement (even though you certainly hadn't stopped pretending you didn't feel a thing). Now it was time to finally enjoy the Games.

###

If you wanted to win you had to search for the others. You decided to turn to 12 first. It was a natural choice given your unpleasant experiences with them, the shame and misery they brought you. The impulsive rather emotional decision however was backed by rational thought. Foxface from 5 was too clever to show herself as she had managed to keep out of everybody's sights since the beginning. The giant from 11 posed no danger right now and you both weren't quite ready to confront him in his realm where you didn't know what would be waiting for you. Besides Lover Boy should slow the fierce girl down and would make her wonderfully vulnerable. Now was the time to end it.

But first you needed to get to them which proved harder than you thought. How difficult can it be to find a dying boy and his protector in this forest? They must've left at least some visible traces. After a while you finally discovered the place near the river where Lover Boy had hid. It was well covered though. 12 had unfortunately done a great job. "We're never going to find them", you complained frustrated. You were impatient, you couldn't wait. Why was everything taking so long? The more time passed the more fidgety you became. Your body longed for a fight again, already addicted to the adrenaline.

"No problem", Clove shrugged, "they will get bored soon. No one died for ages!" She was right. Of course. When you stopped to think about it, it was weird enough that they have let you search for them without any incident this long. Then again… the love-birds were probably keeping the audience entertained. A look of contempt crossed your features. You hated them so much, you wanted to see them dead so badly and not because that would ensure your victory, but because you couldn't live one second with them breathing. It was irrational and stupid and it bore too great a distraction, but you couldn't help feeling this way. After spending all your life hardly ever feeling at all the emotions you were confronted with in the arena were overwhelming and it was slowly getting hard to concentrate.

The only thing keeping you sane was Clove. Clove who was faced with the same problems as you. You knew that for sure, even if you never talked about it (admitting to weakness wasn't anything any of you would ever do). You took comfort in your similarities, even if you had never needed comfort before. Surprisingly you did not feel ashamed because of your need, not now, not here, not when everything was so different from what you had imagined, so different from what everyone had told you. You personally knew some of the victors back home they must have known what it was like, why did they lie to you?

Thoughts like that were useless, they wouldn't change a thing and anyway you were winning, there was no need to worry (maybe you were able to convince yourself). Naturally you heard in the course of the next day the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith inviting you to a feast. It was the perfect opportunity. You looked over at Clove and you both wore identical grins.

###

Clove was faster and you had better chances of overpowering the giant. It made sense, but you agreed to her plan only reluctantly. You wanted to be the one to end 12's live, because surely she would be there getting the medicine that Lover Boy certainly needed. Clove had to promise you to give a good show and make her suffer. Would it have been anyone else promising you might still have been skeptical, but you could practically see Clove cutting the girl up with her knives and the image alone gave you a twisted satisfaction.

So you were roaming the woods close to the clearing hoping to catch the elusive 5, but mainly on the look out for 11. You were feeling strangely relaxed convinced that everything would work out right.

That's when you heard the scream.

Without hesitating you ran. You didn't know what was going on or if it was even Clove screaming, but you had to be there, you just had to, just in case. As you ran through the forest your thoughts were consumed with dread. What if…

You didn't allow yourself to think any further, at least not until you heard her screech your name. "Cato!" Her scream broke your heart (you were actually surprised you even had one). It was filled with so much pain and anxiety you never knew Clove could feel. She was always so strong and fierce, hearing her voice distorted like that filled you with agony. It lead to a painful realization: She was only human. And if she was mortal, so were you.

"Clove", you cried back immediately. _Hold on! I'm coming! _You couldn't move as fast as you would like to, your physical limits were holding you back. Your muscles strained and your breath got ragged as you try to be faster than ever before. Despair seeps through your veins. Somehow in the back of your mind you knew that you would be too late to save her. The only person that was ever worth saving. The person you were convinced of would never need saving.

When you finally crushed through the foliage your world zeroed in to a motionless body lying on the ground. Clove. No. You took no notice of either the giant or your arch-enemy leaving the clearing at opposite directions all you cared about at this moment was the crumbled figure laying besides the walls of the Cornucopia.

The feeling was eerily similar to the blood-rush you felt at the very beginning. You had no control over your movements, your body reacted on its own while your mind was overpowered by new sensations. At once you were at her side on your knees. Without realizing you took her hand ignoring that she was as good as dead. Ignoring the harsh dent in her skull. The soft and shallow moans coming from her were enough to spur your madness. You could almost convince yourself that she would come back and you could win like you were meant to. You are pleading now and you couldn't be bothered who saw it. _Please stay!_

It took you about five seconds after her cannon had sounded to acknowledge its meaning. She was dead. Gone. She would not fulfill her destiny as a victor (she had fulfilled her destiny as a tribute). You were alone.

Cold and silence was everywhere around you as you tried to remember the way you were when you volunteered for this insanity. You needed to find the old you again, needed to go back to before when your world had had an unstable equilibrium and had consisted out of simple truths. (You win. They lose.) The newly discovered emotions were useless now, had always been useless. They hadn't helped you. You told yourself that you were a perfect Career, trained to win at any cost; you were a heartless killer; you didn't care. (But you did and it tore you apart.)

You forced yourself to stand up and took up your discarded spear. The decision who to follow was already made. The giant stole your backpack (and your partner). You needed to get it back and you needed to take bloody revenge. Violence was what was expected of you and you were more than happy to comply. Soon you sped away towards 11's realm an expression of grim determination on your face. You didn't allow yourself one last look at the dead body. You had shown enough weakness already by almost desperately yelling her name and waiting over her corpse. In the end of course it wouldn't matter. Nothing ever mattered.

###

You hurt. Everything hurt and you weren't even injured, not gravely anyway. You weren't bleeding at any rate and nothing was broken. The fight with the giant had gone as smoothly as possible. He had been stronger, but you had the weapons. Of course you were bruised, but it should be okay. You were still perfectly functional and that bastard was dead. Maybe your vengeance wasn't as cruelly executed as you would have liked to, but if you were honest with yourself (just once), you had been lucky you turned out victorious in the end.

You hurt all over. It didn't make any sense, but you didn't care. You didn't care about anything. Killing the guy who killed your partner hadn't brought you the relief and satisfaction you had expected. You were numb save for a constant pain lurking in the background. Feeling so intensely and so variously in such a short time had drained you. There was a void inside of you and you vaguely wondered why and how you even kept moving.

Seeing 5's face in the sky didn't surprise you. She had always been so careful, some day even she was bound to fail (you were, too, that day was here). All you knew was that they were going to end it now. It was only them and you. Strangely you were reluctant to let these Games be over. These Games that had been so unlike everything you had been told to expect.

What did you want? You weren't sure. Did you even still want to win? You didn't want to lose, but winning didn't seem so glorious to you anymore. Coming home didn't seem necessary or even particularly desirable. Maybe you only continued onwards, because there was no way back. Because you didn't know what else to do. All your life you had been prepared for this (you couldn't have been prepared worse), all this time you had worked towards this one victory and now when it was so close, only two obstacles away, you had no choice (you never had any choice).

Night suddenly fell and you weren't even irritated. Beasts were howling close to you and you weren't even scared. You ran. Out of habit probably or out of an universal survival instinct. The animals were some kind of wolves, mutts for sure and you didn't care to be killed by those abominations, not before you had one last chance at destroying your opponents.

The clearing was right there and so was the Cornucopia. Climbing on it was the only way to temporarily escape the monsters. On the black, smooth surface you waited catching your breath and soon enough 12 appeared beside you equally exhausted. That was all the motivation you needed. You were upon them as soon as they reached the plateau.

You struggled for a while until you had Lover Boy in a headlock. He wasn't going anywhere and that girl couldn't shoot you. It was a beautiful stalemate. None of you could get out of it alive. It almost made you laugh maniacally. Maybe you should. It would fit your deranged state of mind oh so well. You were losing control, had more likely lost it a long time ago and neither did you notice nor did you mind.

„Go on, shoot. And we'd both go down and you'd win"

There was no escape. There never had been. You were bitter now, because you finally acknowledged what had been in the back of your mind all along. This was going to be it. You weren't coming home. There had never been a chance for you.

„Go on. I'm dead anyway! I always was, right? I didn't know that until now."

You weren't even afraid now to voice it. You felt strangely detached, because nothing you do would change a thing. Lover Boy was slowly dying in your arms, but even that held no significance for you anymore. There was no denial any longer, no violence to hide behind. You couldn't ignore what was so obvious. You had never been meant to win.

„Isn't that what they want, huh?"

Everyone had betrayed you. They had lied and deceived and hadn't even realized it themselves. Life had betrayed you. It had promised fame and glory and it had given you chaos and despair. The Capitol didn't love you, they didn't adore you, they didn't want you to live. They had their heroes. The tale of the star-crossed lovers catered to the audience' ridiculous desire for drama and tragedy. They didn't see your own tragedy, because they didn't care. Not really, not for you, not for the lovers, not for anyone but themselves. They wanted this so badly. And you were going to fulfill their wishes.

„No! I can still do this. I can still do this. One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district."

Killing was in your blood. It felt right to you. You were brilliant at it. It's not a skill you could use in real life, not a skill which earns you money or friends happiness. You weren't able to live a regular life, you never would be. There was no way you would calm down, find a girl, get a child and die in their loving arms. Dying in a horrible fight is the only death for you. Bleeding and hurting and angry. You were always so angry. Murdering had never succeeded in dissipating that deep rage you felt. But now you were just numb. Hollow and broken.

„Not that it matters."

You felt cold fingers just barely touch the hand that was holding Lover Boy and then a piercing hot pain radiating through your veins. The next thing you knew was that you fell - without the boy that hadn't been your plan - down into the mutt's waiting teeth and claws.

The beasts immediately tore at your body armor and for a while you couldn't think anything but pain and _why don't they end it already? _Your ears were filled with hissing and growling and all you could see was dark, dirty fur until you noticed their eyes. A flash of Glimmer's shining green eyes. The cold steel blue of Marvel's. A wolf with Clove's familiar brown eyes was trying to bite your arm off. You looked away frantically. You couldn't take it anymore. Gazing upwards desperately you caught a glimpse of that girl and suddenly her name surged through your head. _Katniss, kill me! _

Darkness enveloped you. Warm and welcoming.

You were dead from the day you were born. You had just been in denial. But that was over now. Irrevocably. You were moving on.

Home.

* * *

The end. Thanks for reading :)


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